


flightless fall

by Voidromeda



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 19:30:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18817519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voidromeda/pseuds/Voidromeda
Summary: Keith is a whirlwind, a force of nature so beautiful in its native state and yet so unattainable, and he will never know the thoughts swirling in Shiro's head.





	flightless fall

Keith is a whirlwind of feelings – a hurricane traveling through cities and tearing up everything in its path, a force of nature free of malice or benevolence. His breath is like a forest fire, and his words as heavy as gunpowder’s smoke.

Shiro can’t keep up.

It isn’t out of age or anything like that, no; he just _cannot keep up._ Keith moves in a dance that Shiro doesn’t know the steps to, sings to a song alien to him, and taps his feet to a beat that makes Shiro’s heart tremble and constrict while Keith moves on like waves in the ocean. He is a tsunami coming to crash down onto him, threatening to drown him underneath the tidal wave of feelings, and Shiro can’t keep up.

Falling in love with someone after the fact has never burned more than it does now. The smell of smoke has not torn his lungs apart like Keith’s existence has, the scars ache little in comparison to the tightness in his chest, and the only thing that the other man has not taken over is the phantom pain that throbs and pulses in his arm. He thinks he sees the galaxies and stars dance in Keith’s eyes whenever he looks at Shiro, and it drags the air right out of his lungs.

Being stuck in the astral plane does not help matters any either. Death is quick, almost painless – like a rose thorn being plucked out of his thumb – and Shiro is left to watch and wait, and wait, _and wait,_ as everyone else laughs and smiles and jokes with an imposter. He can only watch while he is stuck inside the recesses of the Black Lion’s mind, feel the echo of their voice in his head as they attempt to soothe him, keep the loneliness away from surrounding him.

He can only watch as Red sits within the seat, and then watch as that burning flame is gone, gone – and instead _he_ takes his own seat, _he_ sits down and buries his hands in his face, _he_ gets a headache and has everyone else worrying for him. _He_ is there, a remnant, a puzzle piece that lets go of the hand setting it together, of the hand that has always kept him whole in these times, and Shiro can only watch.

His heart beats, slow and methodical, while he lucid dreams and witnesses deceit and he hears orders. Orders that he cannot shrug off as someone else’s voice; he thinks of them as his own opinions, desires, wants. He runs far away from the whirlwind, watches it leave, and settles on it never turning around back on him.

Shiro can’t keep up.

He closes his eyes and shuts out the world, but still, aural sensations assault him, slamming against his eardrums and not even hands on his ears can dull out the voices, the sounds, the shots, the explosions. The thuds of combat, the outcries of betrayal, the hurt, and the heavy realization that his team has always been prepared for the traitor in their midst.

It doesn’t block away the fight. All flights begin with a fall and Keith –

_“Shiro, please, you’re my brother!”_

And Keith –

_“I love you!”_

Keith doesn’t let him fall.

 

 

When he opens his eyes again, it is to the relief on everyone’s faces, to the exhaustion in Allura’s, to the tears in Lance and Coran’s, to the overwhelmed joy in Hunk’s, to a quiet acceptance in Pidge, and to Keith’s gentle, radiant smile. His touch burns Shiro apart, his chest cradling his empty shoulder, his hands rubbing across his bicep and his arms then wrap around him protectively, and tears sting at his eyes when he sees the love in Keith’s gaze.

“You found me.” he forces out of straining lungs, with a dry tongue and sandpaper throat, and Keith presses him closer into his chest. “You found me,” he repeats, and Keith shushes him. A hand runs through his hair, ruffling it gently, and Shiro buries his face into Keith’s neck.

“I’ll always find you.” Keith promises, and Shiro sobs. Everyone else takes a step back, watching as Shiro throws his arm around Keith, and clings on tightly. “I’m here now.” Keith says, his voice smooth and soft, no longer sounding of dragging grit and of gunmetal sharpness, and Shiro lets the tears spill, lets the sobs escape his aching throat.

 _‘You will never know.’_ Shiro thinks as he cries himself unconscious. _‘You will never know.’_

**Author's Note:**

> [ Pillowfort. ](https://www.pillowfort.social/transistor) | [ Tumblr. ](https://transistories.tumblr.com/) | [Twitter.](https://twitter.com/EmptyHeartLover)
> 
> Author's notes for this fic, if you're interested, are on my Pillowfort.


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